Anymore
by annieb
Summary: They just can't do it...anymore


Anymore 

"Hey, Sara. Whatcha doin'?" Greg Sanders asked as he plopped himself on the break room couch beside her.

Sara looked up from the book she was reading to look at her friend with sad eyes.

"Just waiting for shift to be over so I can go home. I've got …" she checked the wall clock over the coffee maker, " twenty-two minutes."

"You OK, Sara? I mean, it used to be we couldn't get you out of here and now you're counting minutes." Greg put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"I'm fine. It's just…a lot of things have changed around here lately and I'm really tired of fighting. You know?"

He nodded in agreement as he watched her eyes get shimmery. _That's it! I can't sit by and watch this! Not anymore!_

"If I don't see you before shift is over, you go home and get some rest, ok?" She smiled sadly at him as he rose from his place beside her and walked out the door.

His destination firmly in mind, he all but stomped his way down the hall. When he reached Grissom's office, he stormed in slamming the door behind him.

Startled, Grissom looked up from the report he was reading with a jerk, but asked in a relatively calm voice, "Yes, Greg? Is there something I can do for you?"

"I want answers, and I want them NOW!" The younger man was barely in control.

"Greg, I need to know the questions first." Grissom didn't like the feeling of anger radiating off of his colleague.

"Sara."

"oh," in a very small voice.

"Why do you do this to her?" Greg was still yelling.

"My relationship with Sara is none of your business, Greg." Grissom was starting to raise his voice as well.

Greg decided that he wasn't going to be intimidated and he wasn't going to back down. "Sara is my friend, and I care for her. I don't like seeing her hurt, and I'm not going to let you get by with it anymore. I'm tired of seeing her cry. Did you know that she is in the break room counting the minutes until she can get out of here? Do you care?"

"Greg…" a definite warning tone in his voice. Greg chose to ignore it.

Greg leaned on the desk to bring his face closer to the man that made Sara cry. Neither man noticed the stack topple over onto the phone. Or the fact that the intercom to the ballistics lab was switched on.

"What did you do now? Go out with Sophia again, or did you just screw her this time?"

"GREG!" Grissom was on his feet now, also leaning across the desk. The two were nearly touching noses, and still yelling. "Leave Sophia out of this!"

"You leave her out of it! You're the one dating her."

"I am **_not_** dating Sophia!"

"That's not the way she tells it. Especially when Sara's around. Explain it to me, Grissom. Why can you go out with her and not Sara?"

"You don't understand!"

"Then TELL me! Why do you do this to Sara!"

"I love her, all right! Sophia is nothing to me! Nothing." Grissom's voice so quiet, Greg almost didn't hear the last word.

"And Sara?"

"Sara is…my soul"

Emotionally exhausted, Grissom sat down hard and leaned his elbows on the table. He threw his glasses on the desk and rested his head in his hands.

"I love her, Greg. What if I'm too late?"

In the ballistics lab, Bobby and Sophia were working on matching the ammo to a weapon used in a drive-by shooting when they heard the familiar pop of the intercom come on.

Bobby couldn't help but feel sympathy for the woman he saw withdraw into herself before she glanced at him and fled the room in embarrassment.

He didn't know how much of the lab had heard, but he knew he needed to stop it if he could. He knocked on Grissom's door. The reply from within was muffled, so Bobby opened it.

"I said not now." Grissom muttered.

"OK, but you might want to turn off the intercom."

"Shit!" Grissom fumbled for the button.

"Who …"

"Just me…"

Grissom breathed a sigh of relief.

"…and Sophia." Bobby looked pointedly at Greg.

"How much… what did…"

"More than enough. The first words were,_ "What did you do now? Go out with Sophia again, or did you just screw her this time?" _ It, uh, kinda went downhill from there."

"Greg…"

"Uh, yeah. I'll go see if I can find her and apologize."

As Sara walked down the hall towards the locker room, she heard Bobby's voice.

"You really should tell Sara, you know. She has the right to know."

Sophia nearly knocked her over as she was entering the locker room and the blonde was exiting. Sara noticed that the other woman didn't even look up as she whooshed past her. 'Hmmm, probably another hot date with Mr. I Couldn't Do It.' She thought to herself.

"Dr. Grissom, may I have a moment?"

"Certainly, Sophia. Come on in." He came around the desk to lean against it on one hip, making the atmosphere slightly more relaxed.

"I just wanted you to know that I am turning in my resignation to Ecklie today. Effective immediately. I can't… I can't work here anymore."

"Sophia if I…"

"No," she cut him off, "Today was just the straw that broke the camel's back, you know?"

"I'll make sure that you get a glowing recommendation from the department. Above everything else, you are one hell of a CSI."

"Thanks. You know, Gil," She gently laid her hand on his forearm as they were crossed over his chest, "You need to tell Sara. She needs to know the truth."

A noise at the door caused them both to look up. Sara, with tears in her eyes, turned and ran down the hall.

"SARA! Wait!" Gil tore away from Sophia and ran after her.

Sara didn't stop. Even when he called her name three more times. She just kept going. Straight to her car, and out of the parking lot.

Grissom ran to his car and fumbled in his pockets for precious seconds before he remembered that his keys were on his desk. In his office. _Shit!_

He ran back into the building and grabbed his keys from off of his desk. Barely taking time to lock his office door behind him, he was off again. He knew where he was going this time. To her. To Sara.

He thanked whatever deities were in charge of traffic lights, as he made it through every one on the way to Sara's home (he chose to ignore the fact that the last three were yellow LONG before he got to the intersections).

He breathed a sigh of relief that her car was in her parking space, and took the steps two at a time to get to her door before she could leave again. Breathless , he knocked on the wood and called her name.

"Sara? Sara, open up. It's me. Honey, I need to talk to you."

"Go away, Grissom! I know what you came here to say, so just go away!"

"No, Sara! I won't go until I talk to you!"

"So talk!"

"Not through the door! SARA! Open the damned door!" He started to bang on the door with real force.

Across the hall, 82-year-old Katherine Foster was watching the scene play out before her. Sara had given her a list of emergency numbers to call if she ever needed help. It looked like Sara was the one in need of help at the moment. She heard Sara call the man Grissom, so she decided that she would call the second name on the list.

"Mr. Sanders? Greg Sanders? My name is Katherine Foster; I am a neighbor of Sara Sidle…Well, that's just it. I don't know if there is anything wrong or not. There is a man yelling at her and banging on her door. She seems to know him called him 'Grissom' I believe. Mr. Sanders, should I call the police?…All right, I'll wait until you get here. Thank you Mr. Sanders."

Greg was only a few blocks from Sara's apartment, so he made an almost legal U-turn, and slid into the visitors lot with a spray of gravel and a prayer that Grissom hadn't screwed up so bad it couldn't be fixed.

As soon as he entered the lobby to Sara's building, he heard Grissom's voice, "Sara! Don't do this, Honey, PLEASE! Just… just open the door!"

When Greg rounded the corner, a strange sight greeted him. Gil Grissom was beating on Sara's door with a near bloody fist, yelling at the top of his lungs, and by the raspy sound of his voice, he had been yelling for quite some time. A small, elderly woman was watching through a cracked door from across the hall. With a small nod in the direction of who was obviously Mrs. Foster, Greg took a deep breath and tried to get his friend's attention.

"Grissom? You're gonna get splinters if you keep this up."

"I don't care, Greg. I have to talk to her. I have to tell her that I lo… SARA! Open this door!"

"NO! Go away Grissom!"

"Grissom, man, you are upsetting yourself, Sara, and the neighbors." He again nodded towards Mrs. Foster.

This last at least got his attention enough to stop his banging and yelling.

"Greg, what am I going to do if she leaves and I don't tell her?"

"Let me see what I can do. Mrs. Foster, I hate to bother you any further," a glare at Grissom, " but could my friend come in for just a moment while I talk to Sara? I promise he is not as crazy as he seems."

"Of course, Mr. Sanders. Mr. Grissom, is it? Let's see about getting you some ice for that hand, shall we?"

As Gil shuffled into Mrs. Foster's apartment, he cast a look over his shoulder to Greg. Greg proceeded to wag his finger in Grissom's face and warned, "Stay back for now, let me see what's going on." To which Grissom sheepishly nodded.

Sara could hear voices but not words as she leaned her back against the now still door and slid to the floor, a trembling, broken shell of the woman she used to be. A light tap on the wood made her jump.

"Leave me alone, Grissom!" she yelled through her tears.

"Sara, it's me, Greg. Please let me in." A soft voice from the other side said.

"Where's Grissom?"

"I took care of it, Sar, just open the door."

He let out the breath he had been holding when he heard the deadbolt slide away and the door 'squeeeed' open. He saw her eyes dart around in…what was that? Expectation? Fear? Disappointment?

"He didn't leave because he wanted to, Sara. I sent him away. I thought you might need a little space; and maybe someone to talk to."

She smiled at him. Just a ghost of the smile she had when she first came to Vegas, but still a smile.

"He came to tell me about him and So…Sophia," she stammered. "I didn't want to hear it. I saw them, you know. She had her hand on his arm and told him that he should tell me because 'She has the right to know.' And before that, Bobby was telling him basically the same thing. I know he doesn't want me, Greg, but it hurts that he could flaunt her in my face." She leaned her forehead into his shoulder.

"Oh, Sara. You misunderstood. That is NOT what was going on."

She pushed away from his comforting embrace. "OK, Einstein. Then you tell me what IS going on!"

"Sara, you really need to talk to Grissom about this."

"Why? So he can tell me to my face that I am not worth the risk but she is?"

"What? Sara, You're not making any sense. Just please talk to him."

"Get out!" She shoved what felt like her last friend out of the door and slammed it in his face.

As soon as Sara's door was closed, Mrs. Foster's flew open, an anxious looking Grissom, his hand wrapped in a tea towel and ice, bounding out.

"Well?"

Greg shook his head sadly at his friend and boss. He couldn't look Grissom in the eyes as he didn't want to see the hope fade from them. If he had looked, he would have seen sadness that was quickly replaced by a fierce determination.

"Greg, could you help me with a little project?"

Confused by the sudden switch, Greg could only nod.

Before they left Mrs. Foster's apartment, Gil had confirmed that Mrs. Foster had a key to Sara's door. He told her that if she wanted to check on him, she should call the LVPD and ask for Jim Brass.

After the men had left, she called.

She liked what she heard about both men, and decided to help them in any way she could. She liked Sara. She was a nice girl. (When you are 82, 34 seems like a girl.)

Two hours later, Grissom was unlocking Sara's door with Mrs. Foster's key, Greg was right behind him. Shushing the younger man with a look in case Sara was asleep, Gil led Greg into Sara's apartment. Both men had their arms full of dozens of roses in every imaginable color. Reds, pinks, yellows, whites, peaches, all the way to purples. By the time the guys had unloaded their arms, Sara's living room was alive with color and scent.

Looking around to survey their handiwork, Grissom heard a small noise coming from down the hall in the direction of, he assumed, Sara's bedroom. Leaving Greg in the living room and a curiously smiling Mrs. Foster at the open front door, Grissom headed towards the sound.

Stepping carefully as not to startle her, Grissom crept to her bedroom door. The door was closed to, but not latched, so he quietly pushed it open.

Sara was curled in a ball in the middle of the bed, her legs tangled in the sheets, all of the blankets having been kicked of the bed onto the floor.

He could finally make out what she was saying in her sleep.

"No. Don't hurt me again. No, Daddy, don't. I don't like it when you touch me there. NO! Don't hurt me!"

_Oh, God! No!_

Three steps brought him to her bed. He sat down carefully on the side and started talking to her in a very soft voice.

"Sara. Sara, honey, it's Grissom. Wake up Sara."

She was still asleep. "Grissom, help me. No, no! Grissom, don't hurt me!"

He leaned over to take her shoulders in his hands. "Sara, honey, wake up."

Suddenly her eyes flew open, she looked at him, and screamed. She struggled to get away from his hold on her, but he continued to talk softly.

"Sara, it's just me, Grissom. Its OK, you're safe now."

He saw her eyes go from absolute terror to relief as they focused.

"Oh, Grissom!" She fell into his chest as she continued to tremble, the last remnants of her nightmare leaving her body.

"Shh. Shh. Its all over." He kept repeating as he stroked her hair and rocked her gently.

"My father. He...he was… hurting me."

"From what I heard, he raped you Sara."

"Yes," she whispered. "And then, then he changed, and it was…it was you." She looked up at him with fear. Not fear of him, but fear of what she had said. Afraid that it would drive him farther away.

He slid his hand up her arm to settle it on her cheek. "I would never hurt you like that, Sara," he said as he looked in her eyes.

Suddenly, the tension in the room changed, they could both feel it. He began to lean toward her, tilting her chin up slightly. Just before their lips touched, she whispered, "Don't hurt me."

"No."

His lips were so soft and gentle, if it wasn't for the tickle of his beard, she might have wondered if the kiss had happened at all. He pulled back to look in her eyes for a sign of fear or rejection. Finding none, he kissed her again. This time, she kissed him back. The kisses were tender and new. Gentle touches and nips accompanied by almost silent gasps and moans.

When they heard Sara scream, Greg and Mrs. Foster hurried to her room, at the sight that greeted them, they smiled at each other, closed the door, and quietly let themselves out.

TBC

8


End file.
